the play's the thing...

We writers often talk about the need to refill the creative well, so that our imaginations don't run dry.
There are many ways to do this... through travel, meeting new people, having new experiences (good and, unfortunately, bad), listening to music that speaks to us, reading wonderful books and poetry, watching movies... and less often, plays.
And you know... there's something about the tight construction of a really well written play and the immediacy of a live performance that can teach us a lot about characterisation, mining emotion, dialogue and plain, honest story telling.
Last night we went to see a play put on by the local amateur players. It was Summer of the Seventeenth Doll, which is one of Australia's most significant plays, written by Ray Lawler in 1959, and later made into a movie starring John Mills, Angela Lansbury, Anne Baxter and Ernest Borgnine.
It's about two cane cutters, Roo and Barney, who travel each year to North Queensland for 7 months of the year, then return to Melbourne for the lay off. Each year, when Roo comes back he brings a doll on a stick for his girlfriend, Olive . This summer is the seventeenth year he's returned -- and like all the best stories, it's a summer of changes, and the changes are hard for all the characters to deal with.

I loved every second of it, even though the actors weren't professionals, and I recommend checking out your local theatre to see what they're putting on. You might be pleasantly surprised -- and inspired.
And while I'm here, talking about plays... I thought I add these stanzas from an old Aussie favourite, a verse novel written in 1915... it's about a working class, courting couple who go to see "Romeo and Juliet".

THE SENTIMENTAL BLOKE by C.J. Dennis



V. THE PLAY
Wot's in a name? -- she sez . . . An' then she sighs,
An' clasps 'er little 'ands, an' rolls 'er eyes.
"A rose," she sez, "be any other name
Would smell the same.
Oh, w'erefore art you Romeo, young sir?
Chuck yer ole pot, an' change yer moniker!"

Doreen an' me, we bin to see a show --
The swell two-dollar touch. Bong tong, yeh know.
A chair apiece wiv velvit on the seat;
A slap-up treat.
The drarmer's writ be Shakespeare, years ago,
About a barmy goat called Romeo.

"Lady, be yonder moon I swear!" sez 'e.
An' then 'e climbs up on the balkiney;
An' there they smooge a treat, wiv pretty words
Like two love-birds.
I nudge Doreen. She whispers, "Ain't it grand!"
'Er eyes is shining an' I squeeze 'er 'and.

'Wot's in a name?" she sez. 'Struth, I dunno.
Billo is just as good as Romeo.
She may be Juli-er or Juli-et --
'E loves 'er yet.
If she's the tart 'e wants, then she's 'is queen,
Names never count ... But ar, I like "Doreen!"

A sweeter, dearer sound I never 'eard;
Ther's music 'angs around that little word,
Doreen! ... But wot was this I starts to say
About the play?
I'm off me beat. But when a bloke's in love
'Is thorts turns 'er way, like a 'omin' dove.

If you'd like to read the entire poem, you can do so here...

I'm tweeting

Yes, I've caught the Twitter bug, and discovered it's easy and fun . You can find me here.

the table in situ

To see the story of how this table used to be, check here...

memorable poetry...

Downunder, autumn has actually progressed to winter now, but while I was writing today, I was thinking about the full moon. A bunch of words popped into my head and I found myself remembering a much loved poem that my recent blogs seemed to echo, so I thought I'd share it with you. It's one of five poems (yes, five only) written by T.E. Hulme and it was first published in 1912.

Autumn

A touch of cold in the Autumn night -
I walked abroad,
And saw the ruddy moon lean over a hedge
Like a red-faced farmer.
I did not stop to speak, but nodded;
And round about were the wistful stars
With white faces like town children.

T.E. might have only written five poems, but he sure had a talent for imagery.

An author to lunch...

Yesterday, we were thrilled that fabulous Presents author Trish Morey and her husband could visit us. They'd flown all the way to FNQ from South Australia for the Queen's Birthday long weekend, and they zipped up from a resort on the coast for a day trip to the Tablelands in a snazzy sports car.

Of course we talked shop over lunch. Not entirely, but honestly, that's a big reason why writers like to get together, and our dear husbands understand this, the tolerant darlings. I was able to share with Trish some old Mills & Boons I found in the Salvation Army at Mareeba by treasured favourites from a bygone era -- Mary Burchell, Violet Winspear, Anne Weale, Sally Wentworth. As I was a late discoverer of M&Bs, I love the chance to read some of these older books. Even though romance stories keep changing with the time I still like to understand the genre's roots.

Thanks for dropping in, Trish, it was fab. Hope you're having a wonderful time for the rest of your weekend.

awakened by moonlight...

If knew how, I'd put Beethoven's Moonlight Sonata as background music for this post. That music seems to speak to my very soul and it's one of the pieces I often write to.
It’s been rather cloudy here lately and I haven’t noticed what the moon was up to. Last night, however, at around a quarter to four, I woke and thought we’d left a light on outside.
When I got up and went to the window, I found the clouds had lifted and the sky was ablaze with stars, and a fat yellow moon was hanging in the western sky, sending light onto the laundry wall.
I went out into the kitchen to get a better view and wow! Our valley was filled with white mist, like a cauldron steaming with a magic potion, and the moon was lighting up the scene with a mysterious soft beauty.
Memorable - even better than this (public) photo, which I didn't take -you know why.

So if it's not too cloudy where you are, check out the moon tonight. What's it doing?

Now you're just going to have to believe me...

... when I tell you that the table is coming along beautifully... but I can't show you, because the battery in our camera has died and we've left the recharger back in Townsville.

E was even down in the garage working on the table last night while I had my feet up watching State of Origin. (No, I don't feel guilty. E's actually enjoying himself.)

So I'll have to show you a pic of a North Queensland football star (and man of the match) instead. You should see JT kick a goal. As one of the commentators said last night: 'It's like a tracer bullet.'

New covers...

Mills and Boon in the UK are bringing out new covers in August, and in many of the lines the books will be sold as 2 in 1s.

While I can't say I'm thrilled with this move, I am at least pleased that my first book in this format will be Expecting Miracle Twins, (the first book in my duet) will be teamed with Marion Lennox's first book in her new trilogy, Claimed: Royal Secret Son. Marion is an author I love both as a fabulous writer and a wonderful friend. Let's hope we bring each other good luck in this new format.

This is what the cover looks like. I'm afraid I couldn't save the larger version. What do you reckon?

Thank heavens for boys' toys...

I happened to mention to E at breakfast on Friday that I was taking a photo of the table to record its progress for my blog...
A little later, I was working in my study and I heard his sanding machine whining away. By lunch time, the entire table was in pieces and all the paint was stripped and the wood sanded, and it was getting a coat of clear finish. It will go through a few versions of this before it's done, but the task is out of my hands and I'm not complaining.
Bless him.
We took a trip down to Cairns on Saturday (very twisty drive down the Kuranda Range) and we found a set of early Victorian shelves in a secondhand shop, to put on the wall above the table. Lovely!!!!!!
So now I have no excuse but to get on and write.
Head down today...
But I'm cooking a spinach and pea risotto for dinner tonight, served with grilled prosciutto. Can't wait.

the table...

OK, here it is in all its inglorious state (in front of garage). Unfortunately, the grey and liver coloured linoleum has already gone to the dump.

You can see the section E has scraped away. We're taking it all back to bare wood.

a sow's ear...

It was so cool to hear about your weather and gardens in different parts of the world. I'm afraid the great weather I boasted about has retreated and we're back to mizzle -- misty drizzle. But for me that equals good writing weather.
In the back of my mind, however, I'm also tussling with decorating issues.
Our house here is really quite modest. It started out as a shed and we've been slowly extending and changing it and it's been rather fun and quite a creative exercise. Currently, I want to get the kitchen better organised and I've been mulling over getting more fitted cupboards built versus finding free-standing pieces which ft better with the country style look.
I've often read in magazines about people who find old pieces of junk at the bottom of a field, or abandoned in some other obscure place, only to turn them into something fabulous, And I've always thought those stories were fairy tales.
But let me tell you, dear reader, I was thinking about my kitchen yesterday and suddenly remembered an old table in the gardening shed that's been there since we bought this place.
'I'd like to take a closer look at it,' I told E. 'You never know...'
So we took off the ghastly linoleum top (lovely shades of maroon and grey) and E scraped back a section through layers of paint -- grey, cream, green, mauve, pink and more... to discover Oregon pine underneath.
You guessed it. It's a really decent, restorable table. And it fits perfectly -- let me say that again -- perfectly into the space beside the stove that I had in mind.
So I've a new project to squeeze in around writing.
Couldn't be happier. Will let you see the results, but I have a book to write so don't hold your breath.

You might need to be Aussie to get this...

The organizers of the Melbourne Writers Festival have run a Great Australian Text Message Competition, and apparently they had a fantastic response . The competition was to use a text message to get across the essence of an Australian novel. In the end, the entries they liked were actual messages not just a plot summary.

Not a bad effort to turn 100,000 words into 100 characters.

The winning entry from Nyunkia is: Picnic @ Hanging Rock: Miranda where R U???

If you're not Australian, you may not have heard of Picnic at Hanging Rock, a novel written by Australian author Joan Lindsay. It was also made into a movie, but I'm not sure if it was shown overseas. It's about a trip by a party of girls from Appleyard College, an upper class private boarding school, who travel to Hanging Rock in Victoria's Mount Macedon area for a picnic on Valentine's Day 1900. The excursion ends in tragedy when three girls and a teacher mysteriously vanish after climbing the rock. No reason for their disappearance is ever given, and the one girl who returned has no memory of what had happened to the others. A fourth girl had climbed the rock with the group, but returned in hysterics for reasons she could not explain.



Another text entry I thought was fun was this:

Clncy wher r u

Shearng? drovng?

Pls cntct ur accntnt
(Nicola Lane)


It's based on this very well known and well loved Australian poem, which I've copied below, in case you're interested... It shows the intense feelings many Australians have about the whole city versus the bush dichotomy.

"Clancy of the Overflow"

I had written him a letter which I had, for want of better
Knowledge, sent to where I met him down the Lachlan, years ago,
He was shearing when I knew him, so I sent the letter to him,
Just "on spec", addressed as follows: "Clancy, of The Overflow".



And an answer came directed in a writing unexpected,
(And I think the same was written in a thumbnail dipped in tar)
'Twas his shearing mate who wrote it, and verbatim I will quote it:
"Clancy's gone to Queensland droving, and we don't know where he are."



In my wild erratic fancy visions come to me of Clancy
Gone a-droving "down the Cooper" where the western drovers go;
As the stock are slowly stringing, Clancy rides behind them singing,
For the drover's life has pleasures that the townsfolk never know.



And the bush hath friends to meet him, and their kindly voices greet him
In the murmur of the breezes and the river on its bars,
And he sees the vision splendid of the sunlit plains extended,
And at night the wondrous glory of the everlasting stars.



I am sitting in my dingy little office, where a stingy
Ray of sunlight struggles feebly down between the houses tall,
And the foetid air and gritty of the dusty, dirty city
Through the open window floating, spreads its foulness over all.



And in place of lowing cattle, I can hear the fiendish rattle
Of the tramways and the buses making hurry down the street,
And the language uninviting of the gutter children fighting,
Comes fitfully and faintly through the ceaseless tramp of feet.



And the hurrying people daunt me, and their pallid faces haunt me
As they shoulder one another in their rush and nervous haste,
With their eager eyes and greedy, and their stunted forms and weedy,
For townsfolk have no time to grow, they have no time to waste.



And I somehow fancy that I'd like to change with Clancy,
Like to take a turn at droving where the seasons come and go,
While he faced the round eternal of the cashbook and the journal -
But I doubt he'd suit the office, Clancy, of "The Overflow".
The Bulletin, 21 December 1889.

it seems a day...

Remember Wordsworth's "Nutting"? (Did you have to study it at school?) I first read it more than forty years ago but I've always remembered the opening lines...
It seems a day
(I speak of one from many singled out)
One of those heavenly days that cannot die;
When, in the eagerness of boyish hope,
I left our cottage-threshold, sallying forth
With a huge wallet o'er my shoulders slung,
A nutting-crook in hand; and turned my steps
Tow'rd some far-distant wood...

I thought of it yesterday... because right now, we’re having the most incredibly beautiful late autumn weather. The skies are crystal clear and soft blue and at night the heavens are ablaze with stars. Daytime temperates are gently warm and the nights and mornings are crisp enough to put the fire on. Still a novelty for us!
Yesterday, I didn’t write a word.
We went to Yungaburra markets to buy more plants and fruit and vegies, and then we paddled our canoe on Lake Tinaroo. It’s magical to go up and down the little creeks that lead into the lake in a sleek canoe, silently slipping past magnificent rain forest trees that come right to the water’s edge, listening to birdcalls, to a waterfall deep in the forest, watching ducks take off, or cormorants diving for fish.
Also, I’m sure paddling a canoe is very good exercise for a writer. After sitting hunched over a keyboard, it’s great to open up the shoulders and use arms and wrists in completely different movements.
I spent the afternoon planting up the bank directly in front of the house. I’m slowly filling it with Australian natives, with daisies and ground covers, lilies and ground orchids. By spring it might be nice enough to take a photo and show you.
What's the weather like in your part of the world?

a glimpse into the future...

Here's a peek at the cover of my next book, the first in the Baby Steps to Marriage duet, coming in September and October. No guessing where it's set.

No, they're not "our" twins. This is a surrogate pregnancy. When Mattie Carey's best friend Gina has to have a hysterectomy, Mattie decides to help her and her husband Tom to achieve their dream of a family. Mattie's determined, and even meeting drop-dead gorgeous bachelor Jake Devlin won't stop her from going ahead with the surrogacy plan. But in achieving happiness for her friends, Mattie puts her own happiness seriously at risk.

back in the cave...

I was getting a little ahead of myself, launching into a new book. There I was, happily diving into chapter two, when a note from my editor lets me know she suddenly has new "thoughts" about the last book. Thoughts = revisions. A second round of them. In other words, I have to get my head out of its happy new space and back into a state of mind that allows me to rip out favourite lines and scenes and moments from something I thought was "finished".
Sometimes (maybe all the time) being a writer requires serious self discipline.

Audio books...

Do you like listening to books on tape or CD? I love it. I admit I love any way that gives me access to more books. Book tapes are perfect for long car trips, but they can also lift the enjoyment factor of drudge chores like housework.

We have to drive back to Townsville today, which is a crying shame as it's a perfect sunshiny, crisp autumn day after a week of on and off mizzle. E has another meeting (sigh), so we're heading off, but Jodi Picoult's "Plain Truth", set in an Amish community, should entertain us on the way.

Actually, quite a few of my books were put onto tape by the wonderful Hear-A-Book Service in Tasmania. I approached them because my aunt in Sydney is blind and I'd tried reading my books onto tapes for her, but the quality wasn't crash hot. I wanted to give her a talking book for her eightieth birthday, which they did for me and then subsequently they put a host of other books on tape. I've had lovely messages about how they've helped people who weren't well enough to read. The books are available in libraries for people who are visualy impaired or unable to read for other health reasons.

on being a country mouse...

One of the things I love about the Tablelands is that I can grow such a wide range of things here, including plants that normally only grow in the south. I also love being able to grab a handful of flowers from the garden and throw them in a jug for instant effect, and then I can smile at them and get pleasure from them whenever I pass. The long white flowers in this photo are buddleia and they smell divine. I mean divine!!! I believe they'remembers of the lilac family. I've always loved being able to pick flowers from the garden and you might notice that vases of flowers creep into many of my books.

I'm in for a treat...

DVDs of the BBC's North and South arrived today and I can't wait to start watching the series tonight. Somehow I missed this when it was on TV and I've heard so much about it, especially about Richard Armitage.

A little while ago, writer friend Anne Gracie alerted me to the fact that amazon.co.uk was having a sale of DVDs, so I quickly grabbed this beauty. I'm sorry I didn't mention it at the time. Blogs should be about passing on useful information, shouldn't they?

Anyway, just checked and North and South is still greatly reduced, so perhaps the sale is continuing. You might like to check it out.

And in the interests of passing on information, if there's anyone out there who would like to know more about writing for Harlequin Romance aka Romance (UK) or Sweet romance (ANZ), just sing out!

Family photo

It's been a long time since we've had a photo of our whole family, but my daughter Emma sent me this one from the Christening, so here (nearly all) are...

Back Row (L -R) Matt (Vicki's boyfriend), Vicki/Victoria (daughter), Andrew (son) Barbara, Elliot

Front Row (L-R) Lauren (daughter-in-law), Lucy (granddaughter), Emma (daughter), Richard (son).

One day we'll get a group photo that also includes Emma's husband Carson and son Thomas, plus littlies Lilly, Milla and Sophie.

can I blame mercury in retrograde?

OK, I'm not a devout follower of astrology, but I do enjoy reading Susan Miller at Astrology Zone each month. I find her very entertaining, particularly as she goes into so much detail, and apparently mercury is in retrograde this month, which means we can have all kinds of breakdowns with appliances, business deals and communications.

Well, snap.

Last week in Townsville, our oven blew up, the automatic washing machine stopped progressing automatically, the lift in our apartment broke down, and my internet connection died.

Yeah, might have been a coincidence, but I guess Susan would say otherwise.

I used the week to read and do research and make notes and collect pictures of characters and settings for my next book, and to generally dream about the new story.

Now I'm in Tarzali, and I'm connected 'internetedly" again, but would you believe that when I tried to post this, blogger was "currently unavailable"?

Anyway, I've started on the new book, and I'm getting to know my characters. Yay! It always feels so good to have another story underway, to feel that stirring of excitement, wondering how will it all evolve.

Are you surprised that I don't know? Thing is, I'd be bored if I knew every detail of my story in advance. I like to be surprised. I like to let my characters take me by the hand and lead me gently into the mist.

Family blessings...

My weekend was lovely. (You might see me use that word a lot in this post.) So nice to have whole family together with extended family and friends. Barbeque on our apartment block roof on Saturday night for our lot – Writer friend Alison Robert’s rice salad went over a treat, and I now have to email the recipe to all of family. I’ll post it below here, as well. It was much more popular than my Nigella Lawson coleslaw... may even have pipped E's barbecued barramundi.
Christening was lovely -- and I know my daughters Emma and Victoria will continue to care about their little niece's spirituality.

After service, everyone changed into casual gear (a must in the tropics) and went back to the babies’ place for the party on the back deck which ended up lasting all day.

It was a really lovely atmosphere. One of the nicest days in memory. I loved little things -- like watching an old family friend of the Joneses (Lauren's family) place a cross on Sophie's forehead so-o-o carefully and sincerely. Watching a great uncle from Bondi (who brought a box of the most amazing chicken sausages with him on the plane -- chicken and spinach and pine nuts -- most definitely superior sausages) cuddling one of the babies. So many interesting conversations...
Lovely to watch young bachelors go gooey over babies, too. If you'd like to see more pics, go here...
And here’s that fabulous recipe from Alison Roberts…
Dead easy rice salad:
Cook 1.5 cups brown rice and cool. (makes about 3 cups cooked)
Sauté heaps of sliced mushrooms, red and green pepper and finely sliced red onion or chopped spring onion. (asparagus is nice, too)
Throw in a bag of roasted cashews at the end. (About 200 grams)
Mix into rice and add dressing which is – half a cup of soy sauce, quarter cup olive oil, generous teaspoon crushed garlic and a good squeeze of lemon juice.

Home again

Thanks for the good wishes, everyone. Here's a pic (right) of Sophie in hospital, but I'm pleased to report that she's home again, and her happy little self again.

say a little prayer for Sophie...

Poor little twin Sophie is in hospital with bronchialitis. She's had a virus for a couple of weeks and we thought she was getting better. But no. I went through the whole guilty grandma thing yesterday -- feeling bad about being up here at Tarzali and playing in my garden, when I could have been there in Townsville helping, but I'm reassured that she's doing well now. No need to panic.
Next weekend is the twins' christening and my daughters Emma and Vicki are both coming up from Brisbane because they're to be godmothers, so we're looking forward to a lovely family get-together. Granddaughter Lucy's coming too. She hasn't seen the twins yet and at nine years old, she's just dotty about babies, as you can imagine. It'll be quite a girly occasion with my two daughters and four granddaughters!!!
We have a christening gown that's been in Elliot's family for over a hundred years which one of the twins will wear. The other will wear the same one Lilly wore, which comes from her mum's family. I was terrified about cleaning ours, but I took it to the dry cleaners below our apartment with a tentative enquiry and they put it in 'safety wash' and ironed it and it's come up beautifully. Just gorgeous. So much better than anything I could have managed and it only cost $10!
Have to hope now that poor little Sophie is totally better by next weekend and that her parents have recovered enough to enjoy the day!

A little bit of country...

It's just so nice to be back at Tarzali, even if it's only for a week. When we turn off the highway just south of Innnisfail and start heading for the mountains, we always feel a step up in our excitement levels, and then there's a real lift to our hearts as we come up the Palmerston Range and at last reach the Tablelands, and see its green hills and dales rolling out in front of us. Usually it's afternoon when we arrive and the sun is making soft velvety shadows on the hills. Just gorgeous. We minutely inspect our plants, because even after a short time away, there's always something new to discover.

Oh, and I now have my revisions and they're light -- which is (believe me) a phew moment. I'll be working on them this weekend, in between stints of planting a new garden on the bank directly in front of the house. Thought I'd show you the views from my study here.

Looking ahead...

To my right, there's the lovely new dining room which we built last year, with all the recycled windows Elliot lovingly restored.


And then this is part of my view to my left. We haven't mowed the grass yet, so it's not the whole view -- looks untidy at the mo, so didn't want to show you that. Perfectionist? Moi?

City living...

I think I've already mentioned that we're back in the city this week, and I've also mentioned that I recently I read The Girl Next Door by Elizabeth Noble. I really enjoyed it because it’s about all the people who live in an apartment block in New York. Having lived in the suburbs all my life, until our lifestyle change nine years ago, I’ve always been fascinated by the idea of apartment living. I loved Helene Hanff’s book Apple of my Eye, which I read just before I visited NYC in 2003.
Life in apartment blocks, especially in New York, has always seemed so communal – almost like a grown ups version of boarding school (which is a scenario that fascinated me as a child. I loved boarding school books and used to pretend our modest, 3 bedroom weatherboard home was a boarding school. Fellow boarders helped me with homework, played netball with me in the backyard and shared midnight feasts – all imaginary, of course).
Anyhow – where was I? – oh, yeah, talking about living in apartments.
When we moved into our apartment in 2000, it was the first urban redevelopment scheme in Townsville and involved turning the top floors of the City Council’s multi-storey car park into residences. I was rather excited about the new life. I was sure there’d be all kinds of interesting people living on the different levels and we’d all become great friends.
Well, to an extent that’s happened, but inner city people do keep to themselves a lot, too. And you can’t peer out a side window, as you can in the suburbs, and see your neighbour drive home, talk to the dog, lug x numbers of bags of groceries inside, rouse on the kids etc. You can’t stick your nose over the fence for a chat, while you water the garden or take in the washing.
In the same way the real life is never (or rarely) as exciting as in books, I found apartment living a tad disappointing.
But you know… just this week (our one week in town this month) the interest level has inched a little higher for me.
The other afternoon, I was on my way back from the supermarket, which is on the corner of our block, and I saw a very presentable middle aged man parked just outside our front door, looking rather worried.
As I approached, he jumped out of the car and asked me if I could help him.
Naturally, I said, ‘Of course.’
Next minute, he hauled two huge bunches of flowers out of the car and asked me if I could leave them outside one of the apartment doors. He’d already tried on the intercom phone and the intended recipient of the flowers wasn’t at home and he was on his way to the airport and couldn’t hang around.
So, he stuck his business card in one of the bouquets, and I delivered the flowers – rather sad to have to leave them on the doormat, but as you can guess, my romance writer brain was ticking away madly…
Next day when I got in the lift (aka elevator), another guy came dashing through the foyer. I hit the ‘Doors open” button and he managed to slip inside the lift just before we started our ascent.

He gave a huge sigh of relief. “I’ve just managed to place a bet on the Doncaster,” he said. This is a big horse race in Melbourne and it was clearly very important to him – almost life and death important, judging by the intensely relieved look on his face.
I was intrigued and it occurred to me that if I spent a morning hanging out in our foyer (pictured right) and riding up and down in the lift, I’d probably fill a notebook full of story ideas.
I mean there’s the little soldier on our floor. There’s the hugely famous football star, who sometimes has “sleepovers” at an apartment here. There’s the mysterious, darkly handsome Russian actor…
I'm thinking I may yet have to write my own apartment book.

We all love a fairytale...

If you've become an instant fan of Susan Boyle, as I have, you may be interested in hearing another recording of her voice. This recording was made in 1999 for a charity CD and she's singing Cry Me a River. What a voice!

Have to hope that her instant fame isn't too overwhelming. But I reckon she's up for it.

Australian flavour...

Her Cattleman Boss has been reviewed by Jayne at Dear Author.com. I certainly didn't solicit this review, and it's not a rave, but it's quite detailed and thoughtful and I really appreciate the time taken to consider the book's merits. Have to admit I love it when readers seem to "get" a lot of what I'm trying to achieve in my books. After some discussion among visitors there, it seems that reviewers and readers appreciate authentic Aussie flavour in books, which is reassuring, cause that's what they'll get from me.

I'm refilling the well by reading...

I’m rereading The Merry-Go-Round in the Sea by Randolph Stow, and I’m loving his gorgeous descriptions and subtle humour.

First I should explain how I rediscovered this book. Yesterday we were driving back to Townsville from Tarzali (E has business, and son had been visiting, so he came with us too) and we stopped off for lunch at our favourite little lunching place, Off the Rails, at South Johnstone. It's the most out of the way little place in an out of the way street in an out of the way town, but you can buy the most amazing cheese and spinach pie there and their pot luck platters are to die for! And it's called Off the Rails because sugar train tracks run right down the street past the cafe. You can see them in the photo.

Anyway, I always browse their shelves of used books for sale and invariably I buy...
So last night, tucked in bed with a scrumptious read, I came across this passage about roses…

The white roses had taken over one side of the veranda. They engulfed shrubs at the front of the house, and clothed the dead stump of an old palm. The fragile scent of them was everywhere, mixed with citrus and eucalyptus. The flowers, the dark neat leaves became the boy’s image of perfection.
He held the flowers in his hand: small white flowers, opening up on a small green heart. The petals were faultless, crisp with life. They were almost too faultless to be real flowers, too alive: faultless as china or marble, alive as a painting. The flowers were a scented painting he held in his hand.

And then, further down on the same page…

Didi was about nine months younger than the boy, which was a vast gulf, but not unbridgeable; and although she had golden curls and long white socks, she was as good as a boy any day. Not that Didi would have wished to be a boy. Her ambition rose higher: she wanted to be a horse.

Sinking into the work of incredibly gifted writers who "speak" to me is the best way I know to inspire and lift my own writing.

This will make you feel so good...

I haven't worked out how to share Youtube, but please check this out. I swear you're going to love it.

Happy Easter

To add to our Easter mood, we've strung these coloured lanterns on the veranda. Hope you're having a happy time.

One a penny, two a penny... hot cross buns

This year, I forgot – for the first year ever – to buy hot cross buns for Good Friday, probably because none of my children is here to eat them. But I’m not comfortable with broken traditions, so I decided I had no choice this year. I had to bake my own buns.
Slight problem – actually, a few slight problems…
a) I have very little experience in baking buns
b) I didn’t have scales for measuring ingredients properly
c) No currants – so had to use sultanas
d) No mixed spice – so I mixed ground cinnamon with ginger and freshly grated nutmeg

Nevertheless, I started off bravely, but… it’s just as well my deadline is behind me, because baking buns is rather more time consuming than I’d realised. The dough had to be kneaded for ten minutes to start with – and then set aside for 1 to 1 ½ hours.
I re-potted some plants while the dough was rising – and the poor things were rather grateful, as they’ve been desperate for bigger pots for years now. Some of the plants we’d brought from our suburban garden when we moved to the apartment, and they’ve been struggling on our balcony in Townsville. They’re looking happier already in their new pots.

OK, hands scrubbed, gardening clothes off. Back in the kitchen, the buns had to rise a second time – and then there was the whole fun of making the crosses (using a ziplock bag with the corner snipped off), and glazing – I didn’t have a brush so I improvised with makeup remover pads. That sounds dreadful, but they work quite well, and they were hygienic, I assure you.

And after all that, the buns weren't quite the same as the ones you buy in the shops, but quite edible… too edible, to be honest.

Parrot botherers R Us

We have a wonderful variety of birdlife here. Earlier this week, we had currawongs and magpies making quite a (musical) racket and as they chased each other and found insects in the newly mown grass.

At other times, white cockatoos have invaded our citrus trees. At night an owl calls softly in the valley below.

But today a flock of white headed rainforest pigeons spent an entire morning in one of our satin ash trees, quietly tucking their heads under wings and trying to keep out of the rain. Gorgeous, aren't they?

Best Bosses

With my book delivered, I had visions of a full week's gardening before I got my revision suggestions, but it's raining...

I've already changed clothes twice today, because I hate gardening in a raincoat, and now I've given up.

At least I can take the time to tell you that Blind Date with the Boss is available in ebook fromat in a Best of the Bosses 2008 pack at eHarlequin.

If you like ebooks and bosses, this would be a good great opportunity, as there are terrific books by Kate Hardy and Cathy Williams as well!

Meanwhile, I'm hunting for nice recipes with rhubarb. We hardly ever have rhubarb in Townsville, but last week in Sydney, I ate it every chance I could -- and then I found it in Malanda yesterday.

Poor Elliot... we've had rhubarb for dessert last night and for breakfast this morning and now I rather like the sound of these rhubarb muffins , recipe courtesy of the New Zealand foodlovers website.

Ingredients
2 cups flour4 teaspoons baking powder

1/2 teaspoon salt

3/4 cup sugar100g butter

1 cup milk

1 egg1

1/2 cups finely chopped rhubarb

1 tablespoon raw sugar1 tablespoon cinnamon

Method
Sift flour, baking powder, salt and sugar into a bowl. Melt butter and mix with milk and egg. Stir rhubarb through dry ingredients and make a well in the centre. Pour in milk mixture and mix lightly to combine. Spoon into muffin tins to 3/4 full and sprinkle with mixed raw sugar and cinnamon. Bake for 12-15 minutes until golden and springy to the touch.

a week away...

I really did mean to warn you that I was about to disappear for a week, but I was extra, extra busy with my deadline right up to the moment I jumped on the plane.

Story is, this past week I’ve been retreating with several of my wonderful author mates in beautiful Coogee Bay, which is – believe it or not – a suburb of Sydney (only a short bus ride from the city centre.)

I admit I’m biased (I was born in Sydney and lived there for the first five years of my life) but Sydney has to be one of the most beautiful cities in the world. Where else can you find that gorgeous harbour – and then, close by, such amazing surfing beaches as Bondi or Coogee?

Then there are the amazing restaurants… the walks along the cliffs…

But I have to tell you, this was a working retreat.

We’ve been doing this now for three years and the pattern is always the same. We retire to our rooms to write every day, sometimes starting before breakfast. The only times we get together are for meals/ talks after meals – oh, and pre-dinner drinks – and well, after dinner chats (on that gorgeous balcony) that might go long into the night. At the beginning of the week we draw up a list of topics we’d like to discuss – all related to our work – and we approach the whole thing very professionally. you'd be proud of us. Truly.

Writing ( as has often been said) is a very lonely job and for us this retreat also serves as the staffroom, the water cooler, coffee club – it represents all those places where colleagues usually congregate to exchange information, or ideas and give each other support. This is especially fabulous for me because I live in such a remote part of the world. The nearest published author to me is as far away as the distance between London and Moscow.

But the biggest bonus of all is that we’ve become very good friends along the way…